The Fate of the Heart
by kirby russell
Summary: *Interlude Up* How can you tell between a sacrifice and a mistake?
1. Chapter 1 The Players

Disclaimer: Howdy, all. This one's all mine... except the characters, which... kinda aren't. Darn copyright laws. OH! If anyone knows how to get the underlines and the italics to work when transferring Microsoft word docs to the format here, HELP ME! I suck at this computer stuff.  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
"Why does the heart resist what it knows is fate?" Erik whispered, as she ran out of his layer, out of his heart, out of his life - forever...  
  
*erik*  
  
He sat on the bench, looking at the keys. He had not played since she had left, and three weeks seemed like an eternity. But his heart did not seem to connect with the music. His eyes burned for her angelic smile. His nose yearned for the smell of her hair. His entire being cried out for her.  
  
He cried out for her with such pain that he did not realize that she could hear him...  
  
*christine*  
  
"Christine!! Christine!! Where are you, my angel? I need you here with me! I need you... oh, Christine!" He moaned. She watched him in a mix of horror and wonder as he started to cry. From behind the pillar, he could not see her. She had learned long ago the tricks to avoid his ever-watchful gaze.  
  
She could see his pain, sense it from across the room. And to know that it was all her fault... her heart ached from the guilt she carried. She almost started to cry with him, almost gave away her place of darkness, thinking of the sorrow they both felt for their lost love. 'I do love him. And now, look at what I've done! I'm such a monster, such a horrible being... I have to do something. I can't let him suffer any longer. I need...' He had stopped crying. She froze, not daring to breathe for fear of his all- seeing gaze. He stood, and she could sense his eyes on her. And then, all of a sudden, he wasn't there...  
  
*erik*  
  
He heard a soft sound from behind the left pillar. Instantly, he stopped sobbing, and froze. What was behind the pillar? Another assassin, sent by the imbeciles up in the Opera House? Most likely. Who else would come down here? Who else would know the way? Those moronic... it was his Opera House, not theirs. The nerve they had...  
  
He felt his anger rising as he stood and looked straight at whatever was behind that post. Then, he flicked his cloak around him, and went through the trap door. A simple trick, yet he knew that he had outmatched his assassin already. It was almost too easy. He almost felt pleasure... but he knew he wasn't that blessed. His heart still ached for her.  
  
As he mused, he went up the staircase that would bring him right behind the left pillar, and right behind his assigned killer. But as he silently reached the top of the stairs, he looked up...  
  
And no one was there.  
  
Annoyed, he came out and looked around. Surely, no one knew about that staircase. Especially not a half-wit like the one they probably sent. Yes, he was sure no one knew about these stairs. No one except...  
  
He felt a cold hand on his shoulder.  
  
"What's this? The Phantom of the Opera, caught off his guard?"  
  
To be Continued... sorry to everyone from LOTR for kinda... borrowing (yeah that's the word!) a line. I love you, Arwen!!! And you too, Aragorn! *swoon!* 


	2. Chapter 2 Coming and Going

Disclaimer: not mine. And now, ladies and gents, on to the story...  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*christine*  
  
"What's this? The Phantom of the Opera, caught off his guard?" She said with more courage than she felt. In fact, she felt weak just touching him. But she tried to hold hand steady as she removed it from his shoulder. She felt herself sway as she let go; she had been using it as a support. Gathering up the last of her energy, she let him turn around on his own. He didn't though, and for a second, she though he would walk away from her. Or kill her with his back turned, never knowing it was her. Or...  
  
Different scenarios went through her head, and while she was thinking, he slowly turned around, and she found herself looking straight into his eyes. She felt her knees grow so weak she almost reached out for him, but she had decided before to not let him see her broken and beat, as she was now. But her emotions were so mixed up at that moment that she had no idea what she was doing. The only thing she knew to do was keep looking into his eyes.  
  
The shock of her presence was visible though his mask. And as he took her in, she saw his eyes mist over with hidden passion that could hide no longer.  
  
A tear escaped her eye. He reached out with one hand, and slowly wiped it away from her cheek. It felt like he was wiping away the pain from her heart as well.  
  
It was then that she saw his love... and it was then that he saw her blood.  
  
*erik*  
  
He had hoped and prayed in that instant before he turned around that it would be her. Closing his eyes, he turned around, not knowing if he faced friend, foe, or angel. As he opened his eyes, he saw her, the one who had haunted his dreams with the kiss she had given him three weeks before. The feelings he had been beating down for weeks suddenly came spilling out. He somehow held back his other emotions, and let shock take over. He saw that she had started to cry. Acting on instinct, he cautiously let a hand stray to her cheek and wipe the tear away.  
  
As he did that, he let his eyes finally break from hers and wander up and down her body. He was so transfixed with her gaze that it wasn't until then that he finally saw the bruises that were spread over her body like a disease. There was blood oozing from her shoulder and it looked like she had a mild concussion. He looked at her, and realized she was cradling her left arm, and breathing with effort. One of her ribs was broken, he diagnosed. It was a wonder she was still standing.  
  
He felt anger rushing through his veins, the homicidal urge that he so often felt, and knew that whoever had done this to his petit Ange would surely pay by the time the night was done. "Christine?" He asked. The name sounded so sweet on his tongue. He had never thought he would be so blessed as to say it to her again. "Mon cher, doux enfant, ce qui est arrivé à vous?"  
  
Instead of answering, she dropped into his arms, unconscious...  
  
Translations: petit Ange - little angel "Mon cher, doux enfant, ce qui est arrivé à vous?" - "my dear, sweet child, what has happened to you?"  
  
I donno if I like this chapter or not, and sorry 'bout the short chapter, but the food and the homework call my name... but no worries! More to come soon!!! 


	3. Chapter 3 Recoveries and Discoveries

Disclaimer: I've had an epiphany!!!! Okay, drum roll..... They... Aren't... Mine! *gasps from readers* "Really??? We had no idea! You wrote them so well!" *blushes* "well..." hehe! Too many fun-sized snicker bars... okay, enough nonsense. Onto chapter 3...  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*Christine*  
  
She awoke in a cloud of fog. Her eyes were closed, her mouth thick and pasty from nonuse, and there was a feeling of a weight pushing her down into a soft comfortable mattress. She wanted to move and see where she was, but her curiosity was cut short when she tried to get up. There was a strong and yet ever-so-gentle hand that pushed her back down into the confines of the bed.  
  
She licked her lips, and tried to speak, but her voice cracked and failed her. "Er... Eri..."  
  
"Shhhh. Be quiet, my dear Christine. You're safe now. I've taken care of you. You will be alright. Yes, that's right, my angel, go back to sleep. I will be here. I will always be here."  
  
But by the time the voice had finished, she was already fast asleep.  
  
*erik*  
  
As he had cleaned her wounds, he had found that some of the blood wasn't hers. It was a different texture, a different color. What could have happened so that she would have someone else's blood on her? He was perplexed, but kept his mind from it. He stopped thinking about anything, for if he tried, his heart always ended up in his throat, and his mind always strayed to the unconscious figure that lay on his bed.  
  
It had been a rough week for him.  
  
Seeing Christine again was enough to throw him into insanity. But seeing her in this state, in and out of consciousness, injured and unable to protect herself against whatever had done this to her... he felt as if someone had ripped out his heart and had started an irish jig on it.  
  
And now, with so many questions unanswered, and the anger of his angel hurt still pumping through his veins, he found it hard to focus. But he knew he would never leave her side as long as she was still asleep. His heart would not allow it.  
  
As he sat and watched her breathe slowly in and out, the wonder and love he felt came back twice as strong. Why had she come back? Had she just come back so he could take care of her, and then would walk out again? Or was it because she finally felt some remorse about what she had done to him? Maybe... maybe, she still had feelings for him... He would not let himself think that. He would not let his hopes be raised just to see the pushed back into the ground. He didn't think he could take that again.  
  
In fact, he knew that if his heart were to be broken again, he would surely die.  
  
*christine*  
  
She woke twice more before she was able to stay awake more than an hour. And even after that, she was a prisoner in her bed. Erik, the ever-present nurse, she thought irritably. Who would have guessed he could be so mother hen-ish?  
  
She knew that his actions were out of love, the undying love he had always felt for her. And always would, as long as she was living. Maybe after she was dead as well. The only problem left in her mind was if she knew how to return his love. If she loved him or not, but most of all, how to tell him what had happened. She looked over at him. He had finally fallen into the arms of sleep. She knew he would be alarmed if she left the room. But she was restless, and felt filthy. She needed to get the memories of that night off her skin. She needed to get his blood off of her. She needed to get out of bed, and have time to think. And she just couldn't stand it any longer.  
  
"Erik?" She said softly, to make sure he was asleep. He did not stir, but mumbled something about a tunnel and a child in India. She knew he was asleep.  
  
She got up silently, and tip-toed passed his sleeping body to the adjoining bathroom. But before she opened the door to head to her bath, she slipped off her tattered clothes and left them on the floor, to make sure Erik wouldn't walk in. She took a robe, and walked inside. She sighed with relief at the site of the bath, and turned on the water. She bathed for to her seemed like a warm, pleasant eternity, but was, in reality, only an hour. But at the end of that time, in the adjoining room, Erik knew something was wrong.  
  
*erik*  
  
He couldn't hear her breathing.  
  
His eyes snapped open with frightening speed, and he jumped up and at her bed before he could breathe. But she wasn't there.  
  
He suppressed a cry of anguish, and fled to the next room, praying for her again, for what had been the second time in three days. He stepped over some clothes on the floor, wondering for half a second what they were doing there.  
  
He flung the door open... and quickly backed out, turning ten different shades of red, and shouting apologies through the door. He had found out why the clothes were on the floor.  
  
He cursed his blindness to the obvious clue she had left for him. She still had that effect on him; he would jump off a mountain to save her favorite scarf, or dive into murky water to find her ring. He would do anything for her happiness. That was the one thing he and that boy Raoul had in common.  
  
In the midst of his musing, Christine came out sheepishly, wrapped in a long, fluffy robe. "I'm sorry. I thought you would have seen the clothes... it's my fault."  
  
"No, no, it's entirely my fault. I was too..."he bit back blind, and said, "...too worried about you to see the clothes. I'm glad... I mean, you seem in fine condition, now, that is, do you feel... alright?" He cursed himself again for being so flustered. He had never thought he would see her again. It brought so much joy to his heart to just see her smile that he nearly forgot he had the ability to speak.  
  
"Yes, I'm feeling much better... thanks to you." She took a step closer, and his heart told him to move forward with her. But his legs were locked in place. She didn't notice, and continued, "Why did you help me? I expected you to kill me. Or at least turn away from me. After all I've done..." She turned away, and started for the dining hall. He followed, wanting to tell her that nothing would make him turn away from her, nothing in all the world would keep him from helping her. But he let her talk, and tried to hear what she was saying. "That is, I'm so glad you did help me, I'd probably be dead right now, if it wasn't for you. I would be dead. Once again I am saved by the Phantom of the Opera." She was mumbling to herself now. He was concerned, knowing that she was still recovering, and took a step forward. But she retreated to the big couch, talking to herself all the way, "Ironic, really. It was supposed to be the other way around. But he had to ruin that. Every dream I've ever known has been ruined. And it's always my fault. I always ruin my dreams. And I kill the dreams of others. And then... I... Oh, Erik!" She turned on him suddenly, and threw herself into his arms.  
  
He held himself stiffly for a few seconds, trying to get used to these foreign feelings and this awkward new position. He realized the amazing wonderful feeling of a warm body pressed up against his own. This human contact had never happened to him. Not even his mother would let him touch her. Ever since then, he had thought that everything he touched would turn evil. He still didn't know if that were false. But Christine was different. She... she didn't care about his awful face.  
  
He suddenly pulled away from her, and turned his back. He didn't want her to see the tears...  
  
*christine*  
  
At first she had thought that she had done something wrong. Then she heard the soft sobs emanating from behind his cloak. She felt so horrible, she couldn't think of what to do. She took another step towards him.  
  
"I... I'm sorry. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I was... I was just so... so upset... I guess you'll want me to leav-"  
  
"NO!" He shouted and whirled around, and she found herself right up next to him, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a long time, and she felt as if he was reaching out and touching her heart. She realized belatedly that he was reaching out for her, trying to touch her cheek. She gently grabbed his hand, and softly, she murmured, "If only we could stand like this forever. Locked in each others eyes. Que voyez-vous dans mes yeux, mon cher Erik? (What do you see in my eyes, my dear Erik?)" Then she broke the connection, knowing that if she had stayed one second more, she would have fallen in love.  
  
She moved to the couch, and, stunned from what had just happened, he followed her. "I suppose you want to know what happened." She said, as a statement, not a question. He could only nod. "Well, I suppose you're thinking it was Raoul." He nodded again. She paused, taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she was stable enough to handle the emotional memories this was about to bring up, but with Erik at her side, she knew that she would be prepared for anything.  
  
"Well, you wouldn't be wrong..."  
  
To Be Continued. It's the worst possible place to end off, but my advisor says if I don't get off the computer, I'll have it taken away for a month. You see, there's this thing about study hall and using your computer... but at least it was a long chapter? Right? *meek voice* right??  
  
Oh God, please don't kill me!!!  
  
P.S. if this chapter seems random and of no real point to the story, not to worry. Being the good little Phan that I am, I wrote out an outline, so now I know exactly what I'm doing. And trust me, the ending is going to be great! *squeals and jumps up and down* can't wait!!!! 


	4. Chapter 4 Passionate Eyes and Wandering ...

Disclaimer: I've said it all before.  
  
A/N: At first, I tried to be nice to Raoul, but in the end, I just couldn't help myself. I'm a feminist at heart. Sorry, boys. So, if you like Raoul (enter hysterical laughter here), don't get mad (get Glad!). I tried!!!  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*Flashback*  
  
*raoul*  
  
He could see the love in her eyes. Since the Opera House, as he now called the incident, she'd wanted him constantly by her side. And he had been there since the first night. A constant pillar of hope and love, he liked to think of himself.  
  
As she dreamed, though, and reached out for him; as he soothed her into peaceful sleep, she called him her Angel of Music. Whenever he heard this, he pulled back in disgust and horror. But she would twist and call out, and his heart was hers. He would always go back. Even if she loved someone else.  
  
That was when he began to doubt their love. He wanted to think it was real, wanted so badly for her to love him, and would do anything for her love. But every time he looked into her eyes, he could see the love that still took her heart from him. The seed of love that Erik had planted all that time ago. And even though he had pulled out the weed, the root was still there.  
  
And there was nothing he could do about it...  
  
*christine*  
  
All she could see were his eyes.  
  
When she had left him, ring in his hand, she couldn't help but turning around one last time. Now she wished she hadn't.  
  
What she saw would haunt her, in her dreams and in reality. It would haunt every thing she did, and every one she met. But probably worst of all, it would haunt her in the grey that was between her dream world and the real one, the world that Erik used to inhabit.  
  
His eyes... filled with saline crystals, flowing down his unmasked face. It was not his face that scared her now; it was the undying passion of this man. The passion that Erik felt for her.  
  
The two holes looked straight at her, and for one glimmering second, showed hope.  
  
But then, as she had done to him so many times before, his hope died and made way for misery and despair. In his eyes, she saw the knowledge that she loved Raoul, not him.  
  
"It's not true!" she wanted to scream out. She knew it wasn't, knew she loved Erik, not Raoul, but everyone around her thought otherwise. And she had been so confused.  
  
But now she knew the truth. And it was too late.  
  
*raoul*  
  
He couldn't stand her eyes anymore.  
  
He went out, and stayed late into the night, talking to the bartender about his problems. Erik... he spit out the name. He talked about the... Thing that took his love away from him. He talked about the pain he wanted Erik to feel. The agony she put him through. And all this from such a tiny, innocent girl. Christine... his one love. His eyes overflowed with tears for her. For their lost love. And for the knowledge that she would never truly love him. And he talked about Erik and Christine, the love they tried to harbor, but was revealed in their eyes.  
  
"It's not true!" he wanted to yell. But he knew that to deny that was to be a fool. With every sentence, he tried to drown his feelings with liquor, but he knew it wouldn't work. He knew what he had to do.  
  
He staggered from the counter, with intentions even he knew weren't right...  
  
*christine*  
  
She woke to the sound of the door slamming shut. She knew is was Raoul, for she had seen him leave some time ago. She thought it best if she stayed in bed, but her curiosity got the better of her. So she quickly put on some clothes and headed to the sound of his voice. She got to the door of the living room, and looked inside. Raoul was there, muttering and pacing, waving his arms in the air. She heard his faint voice, "Dead... Never loved... How could she... Their eyes... He's dead... Angel... Her eyes..."  
  
She was a little frightened, for she had never seen Raoul like this before. But she gathered her courage and walked into the room. She stopped dead when he turned to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and full of revulsion. She was reminded of the first time she saw Erik angry at her. She felt like dying, just disappearing into the ground before the eyes got closer to her. Such anger and hate, concentrated on her.  
  
"Raoul, what's wro-"  
  
He laughed. "What's wrong? You want to know what's wrong with me? That's very thoughtful of you. I'm honored to know that your feelings extend beyond yourself. And Erik. I can't forget Erik. And apparently neither can you." His voice rose with each word, until eventually, he was shouting in her face. She tried to back away from him, realizing too late that he was drunk.  
  
"Oh yes. Now you run from me. Only after you use me. Only after you cause me all this pain. What did I ever do to you, Christine? I showed you true love, I looked after you. I love you!" He grabbed her by the arms. She could feel his nails digging into her skin. "That means nothing to you, doesn't it? You don't care about me. Did you ever, Christine? My love, and my life, they mean nothing to you. I love you, and what do I get in return, Christine? A broken heart and the knowledge that my life and love was stolen by a... a ghoul! For he is not a man, Christine! He is anything but a man!"  
  
He slapped her. "That is for breaking my heart"  
  
And again. "That is for using me"  
  
And again. "That is for singing for him"  
  
And again, and again, until she could no longer feel and the tears were too many to count. Eventually, the sharp cracks stopped, and she dared to look up at him. He stood over her, oblivious to her blood on his body. He grabbed a fire iron and raised it over her, to hit her one last time.  
  
"This is for loving a coward..."  
  
She could take it no longer. Her anger overthrew her fear. Quickly, she dove from his swing, and grabbed the pistol from the desk drawer. She stood, ignoring all the pain, and raised it to the level of her eyes.  
  
But he was not concerned; he came at her stronger still, and hit her full force in the head. She started to crumple, but she pulled at all the energy she had in her and kept standing. She saw him coming at her again, and knew she only had one second to make up her mind.  
  
She closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger... 


	5. Chapter 5 Reactions

Disclaimer: You know, this gets really old...I don't own them, Okay??? Okay.  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*erik*  
  
"... and I... ended up here. I don't know why, or how, but all I remember is the sound of a gunshot, Raoul screaming, and then everything going black. When I woke up, the only thing I could think of was getting to you. So the next thing I know, I was on the other side of a pillar, listening to you..." she looked up at him for the first time, "...weeping." He turned away, embarrassed and angry. "I'm sorry! I didn't know what to say. I didn't know... how you would react. So I stood there and watched you, and... Well, I guess you know the rest better than I."  
  
He tried to let it all sink in. Tried to... but his anger was too much a part of him to let her story not hit him like... He felt the hot venom of fury rush through his veins.  
  
He stood quickly, and strode with purpose to his bedroom. She followed at his heels, and he nearly knocked her over when he came out again. He paused, his heart fluttering; if he had hurt her, he would be as bad as Raoul. Flashing in front of his eyes, he saw a vision of her on the floor, a look of terror and fear on her face; another bruise on her body. One that he had put there; even the thought of it made him want to run to the syringe by his coffin. But he hadn't touched her, and his heart beat again. Anger rushing to replace momentary despair, he aimed his feet for the door once more. He had on his long cape, and before he could conceal it, he heard her gasp as she saw his lasso. "No!" she said firmly, but he ignored her, and swept past her.  
  
He reached the door when she quickly jumped in front of him. "No." she repeated. He glared at her, and immediately felt guilt when he saw her flinch. But he wasn't distracted, and gently pushed her out of the way. But she grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around. "No." she said simply, cupping his face with her delicate hand.  
  
He stopped cold.  
  
*christine*  
  
She reached out and cupped his face. He stopped dead, watching her with tense eyes. He trusted her completely, and she knew that she held his life just as she held his face now. His complete surrender shook her; with just that one gaze, she felt her heart returning to his. She could feel it become one with his, their beats synchronizing like their voices once used to do.  
  
"Please don't do this, Erik. I have no desire to find out what I have done to Raoul. And I do not wish for you to suffer any more pain then you already have. All I wish is to stay here. With you. Where I know I'm safe. Please, Erik, let me just stay here. Don't make me relive the past." His eyes glazed over, and she wished instantly that she could bite back the words. Of all the things to say to this broken man; she had to bring up the painful past. "I'm sorry. That was low of me. But you of all people should know the... dangers of digging up the dead." She winced, but tried to continue. "I'm begging you, Erik. Please don't do this." But as she pleaded with him, she knew that not even she could control his hot anger. Decisions had been made; she could not change that now.  
  
Resigned, she removed her trembling hand from his face, and whispered, "Please. Don't hurt him. Just promise me that. You can hunt him down, drive him mad, but please, Erik. Don't hurt him."  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" he hissed. "After all, am I not given the right to protect the ones I love? Or has the world taken that right away from me too?  
  
She stared helplessly as he swept out the door, anger radiating from his body. Trying to hold back her love for both men, she sunk to the floor, in a heap of confusion and helpless tears.  
  
*erik*  
  
He stared at her.  
  
Coming back from his long and nearly fruitless journey, he hadn't expected her to welcome him with open arms. In fact, he almost expected her to be gone. But he pushed that thought out of his mind; she wasn't innocent enough to think that she could survive alone in her condition. Or maybe she was...  
  
But that was all the more reason not to start loving her again. He had gone through the pain of rejection once. Surely that was enough for him. Yes, by the time he had reached the other side of the river, he had decided to stop loving her. For the good of them both.  
  
And now, as he stared at her, huddled asleep on the ground, he could feel his soul reach out for this broken thing on his cold floor. It was his fault, if he had controlled his anger she would have been fine. But again he ruined what had been handed to him. Why did he always do that? It seemed like everything he touched turned into something like him: scarred, on the inside as well as out. He heard the whisper of words already been said: "This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It's in your soul where the true distortion lies." Her words still weighed heavily in his heart.  
  
He scooped her up, careful not to touch her flesh. After all this time, even the thought of her letting him feel her cold skin sent his heart cascading.  
  
*Christine*  
  
She woke to find herself once again in a bed not her own.  
  
Immediately, she sprung up, but was restrained by a hand at her side. She turned to see him sitting in a plush chair, looking tired and worse than he ever had. Moving more slowly so he couldn't object, she sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him trying to ignore the lack of clothes she wore on her thin body. If she hadn't felt so tired, she would have smiled. But now she had more pressing matters on her mind.  
  
"Where is Raoul?"  
  
*erik*  
  
"Where is Raoul?" He heard her say.  
  
Suppressing the impulse to rub his forehead, he took a deep breath and started his contribution to the story... 


	6. Chapter 6 Reflections

Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera is obviously not mine.  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*flashback*  
  
*erik*  
  
He sank down into the worn couch and hid his masked face in his hands.  
  
"Here. You look like you need some." He looked up slightly, and nodded his thanks in the general direction of the fingers holding the cup. Taking it from the delicate hands, he asked, "The paper. For a week ago?" Before he could even set down the cup, the paper was stuck under his hands into his lap. He wondered if he dared to look at it. His newfound hope, his hidden dreams so recently found and again so recently crushed... the fate of them all rested in a bit of paper and ink. 'How frivolous,' he thought. 'to be concerned over a few words on a piece of paper.' And yet... this piece of paper not only told of the past, but held the vision of the future. Christine's future; and his as well, for he and Christine were too much a part of each other now. One's future was also the others; one's decision affected the other's entire life.  
  
He was scared of this small piece of paper.  
  
"Could you read this out loud? I can't see. The... the darkness has effected my vision." Even to him it sounded absurd, but she was a good girl, and did not argue.  
  
She took the paper from his hand, and started to read to him:  
  
"'Wealthy Vicomte Found Dead, 'Foul Play?' ask Authorities  
  
On Tuesday, a wedding was replaced with a funeral, and Paris lost not one, but two of their most prosperous and intriguing citizens. Only two weeks before his wedding, the prominent Vicomte de Chagny was found dead, without explanation, in his brother's guest house. To add to the unsolved mystery, Christine Daaé, his fiancée, has disappeared from the Paris scene without at trace. While close friends and family do not suspect Mlle. Daaé of having any part in the Vicomte's death, local police still haven't ruled out the possibility of her participation in this affair. Says one offic-'"  
  
"Stop!" he hissed. Even to think that the blame was being put on her was too much for him. Slowly, he regained his composure and stood. "I'm sorry, ma fille, if I frightened you. It's the-"  
  
"I understand." She said softly, and for a moment, he believed her.  
  
After a long pause, he broke the silence by walking towards the desk. He wrote something down on the back of the article, and handed it to her. "I need you to send this note to the chief of police as soon as is possible. You should know it's of much importance, so I know you won't stop to spread gossip with those silly girls in the corps." He said the words in awful seriousness, but his eyes betrayed his inward laughter. Somehow, just looking at this child lightened his heart. If that was possible anymore.  
  
She dared to grin at him, but still took the note from him with caution. He mentally shook his head; to the world he would always be the Opera Ghost. Even to his loyal... dare he say it... friend, who had known him since birth, was afraid to touch him. Amazing how blind the world could be. He was always so stunned at it.  
  
"So what will you tell her?" She broke the silence this time. He snapped out of his reverie, and stared at her for a moment. He had not thought about that. How obvious, and yet... to break the child's heart yet again would take a courage he wasn't sure he had.  
  
But she was not a child anymore, he realized. No, he had done that to her. He had taken away her innocence, stripped it away and tried to replace it with love. The love... the love he wanted her to return to him.  
  
It was too late for that now. All Christine needed from him was good advice and a pair of arms to run to. To be her angel once more. How ironic it was; once she ran from his protection and now she hunted for it. In her moment of need, she ran to the man who had caused this whole ordeal. And now he was to guide her to her happiness. If only her happiness was with him.  
  
"I suppose I'll just tell her the truth. I've lied to many times before, and look what's come of it." He sighed, and gave her a look of utmost despair.  
  
"She still..." she started with sympathy in her eyes. He saw what was coming, and did not think he could take the ringing hollowness of her words.  
  
"I don't want to hear it. I don't need your pity and lies. You'll just make it worse, ma fille." He turned away, but was still reluctant to walk out the door. He knew reality awaited him on the other side. So he sat again, waiting for her to speak.  
  
Long silence again filled the room. He knew she was as stubborn as he; she would not talk unless provoked. He stole a glance at her, and saw her reading the note he had written to the chief of police. As she skimmed it she absentmindedly read parts of the note out loud. "Please know I'm watching your case with considerable care... Mlle. Daaé had no part in the Vicomte's death... Do not search for her anymore, she is under the wing of family..." she looked up at him. 'Family??' her eyes said. He chose not to respond. She continued with strengthening sarcasm. "... Mlle. Daaé's things should be delivered to me... The newspapers will tell of Christine Daaé's innocence in the morning... I hope you take my advice. You would not like the consequences. Your obedient friend" She snorted at his blunt words, and he looked at her indignantly. "You never change, do you Erik? You will always insist on having your way. You will never accept less than perfect. And you will always love her-"  
  
He sprang up on her before she knew what had happened. "You just insist on prying into business which is not yours, don't you?" he spat at her frightened face. Then he turned from her and disappeared before she could see his unshed tears.  
  
And as she watched him go, Meg wondered if she would ever see them happy. 


	7. Chapter 7 What the Mourning Brings

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is obviously not mine.  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*christine*  
  
She stared at the newspaper in her trembling hands. Still the whole truth had not sunk in. The bare fact that she had killed the man that she had once loved, and that once loved her as well. Once.... once upon a sweet time...  
  
She pulled herself together, and stood with a firm resolve. She could see the questioning look in his eyes and knew what he was thinking.  
  
"I am fine, Erik. Thank you. I am perfectly alright. I had been expecting it."  
  
"But... you..." she saw him shake his head. If she refused to face the truth, she knew he would not bring it up. "I am glad, my dear. Now, I suppose you wish to..." she heard a waver in his hard voice, "wish to go back to your home now that it's over. You wouldn't want to stay here. Your life is waiting for you." He was rushing his words like he wanted her to leave as soon as possible. Her heart ached at this thought, and she wondered if it was true. Did he even want her here anymore? 'Of course not!' she scolded herself. 'Who would want me, after all this?' But she could not bear the thought of all the people above the tunnels. She finally knew why Erik hated them all; the minute her foot touched the pavement she would be judged and labeled an outcast from society. Only Erik could know how she felt. In spite of all they had been through, he would always be there at her side, loving her as his own child. 'Is that all you want him to love you as?' a voice in the back of her mind asked. She pushed it away, but knew it was right. She was beginning to love him, and now she knew that no matter how much he wanted her to, she couldn't go.  
  
"I can't leave Erik." she said firmly. "I refuse to go back up to a world where they judge people on their looks and how much money they have. I refuse to live with a society that rejects people just because they are different. And I refuse to leave your side."  
  
They were both silent and frozen for a long time after her outburst, but when she finally looked up, she saw the tears streaming down his face.  
  
*erik*  
  
He had almost ordered her out of his house, expecting her to be joyful at the excuse he had given her to leave. After all they had been through, he had come to expect nothing more than the feel of her dress on his fingertips as she swept out of his life once again.  
  
And yet now at the time when he most expected her not to want to be with him, the one who had caused all this, she wanted to stay. Christine, his angel, wanted to stay (on her own will no less!) in his world of unending darkness. Unable to comprehend, he felt the tears he had held back before start to flow.  
  
"How is this possible?" he asked himself, and the world which had been so cruel. She looked up, smiling at him. "It is possible, Erik. I want to stay here, with you. Where I know I'm safe from everything."  
  
His head snapped up. "Safe?" He repeated dumbly. "Yes." She said confidently. "You protect me from everything, Erik. Before... I didn't want that. But now, I know you were doing the right thing. And I trust you. I want you to guard me still."  
  
He felt his tears turn cold as he finally understood her feelings. She didn't love him and she did not want to stay out of passion. Protection- that's all she ever wanted from him. She only felt she had to stay because of her need for an angel; a surrogate father to protect her from the cruel reality of the world.  
  
Dreams of them together crushed again, he said in a voice lined with despair, "Christine... I know you feel safe down here. But you cannot stay here forever. The world needs you, and your voice. I cannot keep you locked up down-"  
  
"But you're not!" she cried. "It is my wish to stay with you. Don't send me away, please Erik!" Pleading, she ran to him, and took his hands in hers. They were so close; he felt his heart begin to pound. It was happening again. That night when he sent her away... all of it flashed in his mind. His mistake, the kiss that still tickled his lips... and her eyes before she disappeared for what he thought would be forever. He swore to himself on that night that is she had ever come back he would not make the same mistake twice.  
  
But now he realized that it wasn't a mistake. It was a sacrifice.  
  
*christine*  
  
She saw the emotions run through his eyes, unable to follow their course. The only one she could truly see was his pain.  
  
"You should leave, Christine. It is for your own good."  
  
With those words, she watched her angel walk, defeated by his own conscience, into his room and locked the door.  
  
She just asked him to let her stay, had not brought up the past or asked him to marry her! All she wanted was to stay with him, something she knew he had longed for since the first time he heard her sing. Yet now he wanted her to leave. Confused and hurt, she let her hands drop to her side and, not knowing what to do, went to her room to pack.  
  
As she threw her few things into one bag, she wondered if he was asleep. She wondered if he even cared about her anymore. She ventured out of her room and knocked on his door. Receiving no answer, she decided that he wouldn't mind if she stayed one last night. Even if he did, she had nowhere to go. No one in Paris knew her, or thought enough to care. Erik was all she had. And now, not even he cared whether she lived or died.  
  
She cried herself to sleep.  
  
*erik*  
  
He woke to the sound of an angel in his study.  
  
Sitting up, he tried to shake the shackles of sleep off and focus on the sounds emanating from the other side of the door. He silently opened the door and stopped, unable to move from the sight that beheld his bloodshot eyes.  
  
Christine stood, back to his room, holding a sheet of music in her hand. He stared at her; her hair was loose, her dress white and pure, her skin the shade of alabaster. Not only the voice of an angel, but the look of one as well; and to him she looked better than all the angels in heaven.  
  
In the middle of his worshipful gaze, his mind finally connected the sounds coming from her wonderful lips. All of a sudden, his wonder and love turned into shock, which in turn formed into rage.  
  
He unscrupulously snuck up behind her, and his anger was fueled when he saw what she was singing. "Why are you still here?" He hissed, and she jumped and spun around, the notes to his opera Dan Juan Triumphant scattering to the floor. "Oh!" She gasped, and then looked down. He ignored her guilty air and went on. "Can you not even respect my last wish for you? Is it impossible for you to do as I say just once? I tell you to leave, and yet where are you when I wake? Not in a warm bed up in Paris or in a friend's home laughing over how foolish you were. No, you are standing in front of my organ, singing the music that I wrote for..." 'For us', he thought, but did not say it. "Why, Christine? Why can't you just let me be in my miserable silence? I'd die so much easier if you just left."  
  
"I had no place to spend the night," was her innocent response to his anger. She looked so frightened, her eyes round, staring at the man whose emotions were fiery and threatening. He could see she did not understand; still after all this time, she could never understand the deepness of his love for her. His anger melted away, and he felt guilt sweeping through him. To turn down this child from a bed was... No! She was not a child, he thought violently, and she did not need him. Certainly she did not want him. "Well it is morning now. You are free to leave." It came out as an order, and all of a sudden, he felt the heat of her eyes boring into him. "I will not leave. Not until you promise me something."  
  
Struck by the firmness of her words, he took a slight step back and dared a look into her eyes. They were clear and bright; he knew he stood no chance against her will. He would do anything to make her happy once more.  
  
"Anything, my dear." He whispered, and he meant it.  
  
"Promise me... that I'll receive one more music lesson from my teacher."  
  
-Okay, sorry to all that think Christine is smarter than I portrayed her here. It's not my fault; I swear it was the crayons!!! Tell me if you think I put too Much emphasis on her stupidity, or if you liked it, or just review because I told you to! Go! Go review now! Yes, take the mouse to that little button... There you go!! Good mindless slave... *cough* ahem! I mean good reader! (It's not me, it's those crayons!!! Especially the blue ones...)- 


	8. Chapter 8 The Songs of Dan Juan

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is not mine.  
  
A/N: thanks for still reading this, and to some who reviewed: To Jennifer, how awful, Borders is my life! To Jenny, actually that's not what I had planned, but good idea! You should write that into a phanfic of your own. To Azure, I know! Christine needs a backbone, and I think I gave her one quiet strong enough. But then, I always thought if Christine would just stop crying, she'd be quite a headstrong woman. As she is below... To Tee-nuh, I think you're the lemon my friend. Thanks for being so kind to me. To Gee-uh, coffee eh? I read your stuff, it's great. See you in the snow! And to my ever faithful LadyLaura, you need to update girl! Okay, now onto the phic!  
  
The Fate of the Heart  
  
*erik*  
  
"Promise me... that I'll receive one more music lesson from my teacher."  
  
"what?!" he exclaimed with disbelief. After all this... what was she thinking, playing with the fire that would surely burn her? Their fates were decided now- she could not stay. He could not bear to have her here, to be a living mockery of his pathetic life. She was like a porcelain doll on display; he could stare at her wondrous beauty forever and yet would never be able to touch her delicate skin. He could not have that for her; he would give anything to keep her, but he knew exactly what it felt like to be caged like that.  
  
"No, Christine. You cannot ask this of me. I don't think... I just can't." He looked at her, and, knowing she did not see, felt his anger rising. "Do you not understand? You can't stay here, Christine! You don't know how hard it is to live day after day knowing I can't have the one thing, just that one thing, I've ever asked for. It eats you away, Christine, it eats your heart away until there's no feeling left. And even then you still have the burning questions in your mind. Those questions no one will ever be able to answer. Why? Why did it have to be me? What have I ever done to deserve such a horrible fate?" He could feel the anger ebbing away. All he could feel now was exhaustion. And still he knew she did not comprehend. "Just go, Christine. That's all I ask now. Go and leave me to my dark fate."  
  
He started to walk off, but at the last second she grabbed his hand, and pulled him back. He felt himself being pulled up right next to her, and could feel the heat of her small body against his. His heart told him to kiss her, but he knew she would pull away in disgust. He was, after all, Erik. And yet...  
  
But all romantic thoughts he had were lost when he looked into her fiery eyes.  
  
*christine*  
  
At his words, she lost all meekness she once had. She raised her chin to look him in the eyes, and bit off, "Do you not think I have been through hell down here?" he cringed at her words, but she did not care anymore. She had gone too long holding everything back. Now, there were no barriers. "Down here, in this dark place... I was baptized in a pool of innocent blood Erik! And even up there, in that cruel unfeeling world, I could not run away. I lost the only person who ever knew and loved me for who I really was: my father. And when I thought I had finally found someone who could love and know me as well as him, he deceived me and scared me, caged me and threatened me." She felt horrible at the tears she could see in his eyes, but she would let the guilt tear at her later. "Even so, the music he sang to me called my name, and I couldn't stop thinking of him. Not even when I was with Raoul. I was too confused, too foolish to realize then what was going on inside me. When you brought me down here that... that night, despite all the things you did to me, despite all the horrors I've seen with you, I knew the moment I kissed you that I lo-"  
  
"No." he moaned with pain. She knew then that he would never really believe in her love for him. He would always think himself not good enough. She did love him, with all her heart and mind. But would he ever truly believe? And even if he did, he seemed so cold now, so far away from the loving Erik she once knew. She knew not if he still loved her, but she needed to know. If there was any love left, maybe they still stood a chance against the horrible fate their hearts seemed to have.  
  
"Erik." She murmured. "I don't know what's happening inside your heart, but I have to know. I can't stand these guessing games, and I don't think I could live if I leave you knowing that I left the one that was meant for me. I've left once before, and I hated every second of it. Ever since I kissed you, all I've wanted was to just be here, having you hold me in your arms. Like this..." she reached out and put his trembling hands around her waist. He stared at her with incredulity and fear, not knowing where all her emotions were coming from. Not even she knew, and yet her heart told her to continue. "Erik..." she said simply, "I love you."  
  
"No." he cried again, disbelief evident in his eyes. Pulling away from her, tears streaming down his face, he shakily backed away. She started to apologize, but decided to call upon her bravery once more.  
  
She sighed, the tears in her eyes now threatening to fall. "Erik, I can't deal with your fear any longer. I tried to give myself to you once, and you denied me. It nearly broke both of us. Again, right now, I want to tell you how I feel, and you back away as if I am mad." Maybe I am, she thought, for being so bold. She took a breath, and the irony of her next words was not lost. "I will give you a choice, Erik. You can choose to let me stay, and I will stay willingly and happily-" she could see him take in a sharp breath, "-or you could let me go, as you seem to so strongly wish. I know already what I want; the choice is entirely up to you to make me leave or not. But I must warn you, if you let me go now, I don't think I could ever come back. Either way, I will always love you. It's just a choice of your happiness."  
  
With her mind made up, she took a step back to watch him as he made his choice.  
  
- Oh God, I'm so sorry to stop here! It's so short I know! But I have to go to class! Please review and tell me if that was the worst chapter ever, b/c I wrote it kinda rushed. And oh, if any of you are wondering what happened to that music lesson, I couldn't write it well, so I just kinda gave up on it. Sorry if you were holding out for it. Power to Christine! - 


	9. Chapter 9 Decisions

Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is not mine. 

A/N: I just noticed that I indirectly quote POTO a lot in here... didn't mean for that to happen. Ah, well, guess everyone knows what I have on the brain (24/7, too, hehe!). See if you can find them. 

The Fate of the Heart

*erik*

As his newly born angel rose to her new beauty and power, all he could do was stare. Never had he known such energy from her, and yet somehow he had expected it all along. But now that she used this newfound bravery, it had knocked him flat. 

Never had he expected those three words to escape her perfectly formed mouth and be directed at him. 

Never, in all his fantasies, was this possible. It just wasn't; this beautiful angel before him ever feeling more than pity for the monster she faced. She was only doing this for pity, as truthful as she sounded. He knew it, it was the only explanation. And yet why did it all seem so real? 

He pushed the wishes out of his head, knowing he would only have them broken again. Wiping away the seemingly ever-present tears, he tried to tell her how he felt.

"I.. I can't, Christine. I can't let you throw your life away for me." 'Me,' he thought. 'She wants to stay with me.' How many times had he dreamed this? But how many times had those dreams turned sour, knowing she would never survive his temper and harsh living habits. She was a child of the light; pure, and simple, yet filled with such splendor... She would regret ever promising to stay here. Especially with him. 

Yes, she would regret it, but he would not give her the chance to.

"But Erik!" she cried, bridging the gap between them again. "I know you are not one to make the same mistake twice. I-"

"Ah, but my dear," he said cutting her off, "It is not a mistake, but a sacrifice."

"One that I'm not sure either of us can make again! Please Erik, I'm begging you-"

He turned angry, biting out, "I do not need your petty begging, or your pity. If you consider yourself to be so above me, then I suggest you leave. I believe you know the way out." He turned sharply on his heal, and, almost shaking with hate (directed towards whom he did not know), stalked towards his room. 

In a déjà vu of the previous day, she ran towards him and grabbed his arm. Before he could think of a sharp remark that would send her crying to the forgiving light, he felt something velvet against his face. He wondered what it was... and then he felt her slim hands against his neck.

*christine*

She had meant it to be a short brush of her lips against his; something to sway his mind into letting her stay. Also, she knew, something to calm his relentless anger. But their fierce passion, realized or not, refused to let them let go. She felt fire from him, and let him burn her, scorch her heart with his love. 

He, in return, felt a cool wave of peace wash over him; her cold lips calmed his fiery heart. Letting the change between two souls happen, she tried to make her mind be quiet, tried to let her passion take over. But it would not stop its feelings of doubt and discomfort. All the time she had known him, from the first time she had seen him- even without his mask, she had wanted to be in his grasp. Now that she was here, in his arms, kissing his lips, she felt discontent. 

Tremulous, she pulled away from his trembling embrace. "I'm sorry." She whispered. Without even looking, she knew what she would see. Looking up, she saw his eyes burning with raw emotions of love that he could not hide. But she also saw the immense hurt and worry that she knew would not stop eating him until she comforted him. She saw his confusion, a twisted tapestry of questions he could not untangle. She saw the immense wave of passion that made him shiver from head to toe.

She saw him, but only for an instant. The next, she broke his delicate hold, and forced herself to walk away for the second time.

_- wow, I thought that chapter would turn out longer. Whoops... heh. heh. heh. But anywho, even as I reread this I want to throttle Christine. I'm truly sorry I had to do that. And if you think that's bad, wait until what I do next chapter... heh. heh. heh. -_


	10. Interlude

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

The Fate of the Heart

_...Interlude..._

_There was no hope left. _

_All willingness to live had left his withered body, all remaining love for life gone. _

_He wanted his angel so badly, needed to feel her touch again. He followed her as she blindly stumbled through his maze of dark tunnels. He could see her perfectly, and for the first time cursed his ability to see in the dark. She looked so beautiful... her dark curls cascading down her back and bright eyes burning with unshed tears. She looked so forlorn; he wondered why. She was finally free from him. She ran from him; from what he was, from all he had destroyed and killed in her._

_He wondered if he could still follow her with the tears blinding his mismatched eyes. Careful to not alert her of his presence, he watched her in painful silence until she reached the entrance to the Rue Scribe... but something looked different._

_He realized belatedly that she only knew of one exit- the one through the mirror. He felt his heart wrench at the memories the mirror brought; the lessons, the frivolous notes of love barely disguised, the first time he brought her down to his lair..._

_He tore his mind away from the past, and tried to focus on her. She was playing with the spring to trigger the mirror, but could not steady her hands long enough to pull it. Again he wondered why he angel had taken such a fall from grace. It pained him no end to see her like this; he would give his life to take her into his arms and sing her to sleep. But he knew such days were over, that his dreams would never become reality._

_She finally triggered the mirror, and he watched her slip back to the world of the living for the last time. As she closed it, he felt the click of his life ending. "Mon ange... je vous ai merai toujours. Mon ange...("My angel... I will always love you. My angel...")," he whispered hoarsely, wishing with all his heart to die. _

_He could hear her start to lose control. She started to sob uncontrollably, the tears choking her, and he could feel the same tears choking him as well. He fell to the floor in agony, and crawled blindly to the edge of the mirror. On the cold floor he clawed at it silently, wanting with all his broken heart to be near her. He watched her sink to the ground, shaking, and wondered why God hated him so._

_Without warning, he heard the cry with the pain of a tortured animal, and he could not tell which side of the mirror had voiced their equal sorrow. _


End file.
